Codename: Whatever
by Sacred Dust
Summary: UPDATED. *-*-* Boredom can be a scary thing. Jane hypnotizes Daria and accidentally brings out a whole new side of her...a fearless spy on an impossible mission.
1. Infiltration

_Special thanks to BFC110C4 and his story Operation Glitterberies for some inspiration. I don't own Daria, but if I did I would bring back the show. The world still needs her criticism._

**Codename: Whatever**

Chapter 1: Infiltration

"I don't think this is such a good idea," Daria Morgendorffer said. She edged away as her best friend Jane Lane sauntered over with a strange pendant and a wicked gleam in her eye.

"You're getting sleepy. Sleepy…" Jane teased.

"Stop it!" Daria swiped at her hand.

The slender artist stepped back. "Whoa there! We haven't even started yet."

"Good, let's not. _Sick Sad World_ is on." Daria reached for the remote. She was wearing her familiar coke-bottle glasses and a long nightshirt with a picture of Einstein on it.

"It's a rerun. The one where that guy's false teeth keep trying to kill him?"

"Oh, yeah."

"Come on, Daria, I did _you_ a favor," Jane insisted. "I'm sitting in here at seven-o-clock on the night of the school dance, and there _were_ some guys I could've gone with. Besides, if we're going to have a stereotypical sleepover for once, we might as well have some stereotypical sleepover hijinks."

Daria frowned suspiciously at the metal trinket dangling from Jane's finger. "Sorry, I've been trying to cut back on my hijink levels."

"My mom made me this necklace for my birthday, you know. Granted, she was two months late." Jane muttered. She sat down on the edge of her friend's bed.

"I don't think I'm the right kind of person for this stuff. Some doctor tried to use it on me once and it didn't work. I'm hypno-proof." Actually Quinn had walked in on the session before it really got going, but Daria saw no need to go into details.

"Then what are you worried about?" she raised an eyebrow. "But seriously, Daria. I think there's _something_ knocking around inside of you. And I'll bet you a whole pizza I'm right."

Daria paused. She was still leery of the idea, but that made it interesting. "…Fine. But make it quick. And don't tell me to strip or anything."

"Don't worry. That's for _after_ I buy you dinner."

Jane's heart skipped a beat as Daria smirked at her. _What's she thinking about? Wait, what am _I _thinking about? I can't believe I said that._

"Um, Jane, if we're through with this awkward moment, would you like to begin?"

She jumped. "Oh! Um, yeah! Just sit back and clear your head or whatever. Find your center."

Daria sighed and tried to do as she asked. "Is this center made of marshmallow cream?"

"No, you're thinking of Quinn. Now watch the mystic pendant."

At least the necklace was interesting, Daria thought. A beautifully molded dragon on a chain, with two outstretched legs and a long curving body in the shape of a 'J.' Its eyes were tiny points of red.

"Good. Look into the eyes of the dragon," Jane murmured, and the pendant began to swing slowly back and forth.

Daria hardly remembered she was there. The dragon seemed like the only thing in her world now, and she felt her mind drifting through the void with it. Jane told her to close her eyes. She did, but the dragon was still there. It had always been there.

"You can still see the dragon, can't you, Daria?"

"Yes," she answered without thinking. Her voice seemed to come from deep inside of her.

"That's right. The dragon is your friend. You're safe and relaxed with him. You have nothing to fear. And you have nothing to hide."

Yes. She did not have to hide anymore…

"I'm going to count to seven. When I finish counting, you will wake up and let out everything that is hidden inside of you." Jane knew this was risky, but the hypnotism was clearly working, and curiosity and excitement had won over her common sense. "One…two…"

Her heart pounded faster with each number. She wondered if Daria would cry. Or scream. Or act like her sister. Or just pick up the remote again and ask what was on.

"Seven. Wake up."

It was instantaneous. One moment, Daria was sitting perfectly still four feet away from her. The next, a gray-and-brown blur cracked Jane in the side of the head and tackled her to the floor. Jane squeaked in protest as the wind was knocked out of her and the pendant flew from her hand. She tried to breathe, but Daria was sitting on top of her and gripping the side of her neck and making her dizzy, and her eyes…

The glasses were gone, and those weren't Daria's eyes anymore. They were cruel and cold and seemed to stare right into her brain. "Move and you die, communist scum." That voice—sensual yet forceful, two things Daria was not. It didn't stop at Jane's ears but seemed to enter her veins, curdling her blood and making her heart race.

Something was very wrong here.

"Daria," Jane choked, and the iron hand squeezed harder. "Please—"

"That's my undercover name. But now I see the alias is no longer necessary." With her other hand, the girl she no longer recognized gently stroked her face. It was threatening, but so seductive that Jane would have shivered if she weren't already trembling with fear. "You can call me Powers. Melody Powers."


	2. Threat Assessment

Chapter 2: Threat Assessment

Melody smiled down at her next victim. She had caught the tall, skinny socialist female completely off guard. Everything was going according to plan.

"Heh heh…okay, you got me, Daria. Very funny. You can let me up now, all right?" Jane forced a laugh, but it turned into a gasp as Melody's knees dug into her sides.

"Call me 'Daria' one more time and you'll never get up again." Damn HQ for giving her that name. Then again, it was just the sort of bleeding-heart new age moniker that would fly with these people.

"Look, um, Melody…I know this may be hard to believe, but you're not real. You're—eep!" Jane protested as Melody dragged her by her feet toward a swivel chair, thrust her in and tied her hands behind it with an ugly green jacket from the floor. It took only ten seconds; not bad, but not her best.

"I'm glad you're so willing to talk. Maybe now you'll tell me what I need to know."

Jane gulped. How could a girl who sat through gym class be so strong? "You've seen my grades, right? Knowing stuff isn't my specialty."

"Is that right?" the operative put a mocking finger to her chin. "So your Bolshevik superiors told you nothing of the insurgency they have planned in this city? How very curious."

"Lawndale doesn't really have things like that. Unless you count the time a soft drink company invaded the school."

"That was the market at work, Lane. Don't fight it," Melody said drily. She grabbed the arms of Jane's chair, slammed it into the wall and leaned forward until she was close enough to bite. "No more stalling. Tell me about the plot now and I may dispose of you painlessly."

Jane was being interrogated about national security by a barefoot girl in a nightshirt. She almost laughed at the absurdity of it all, but wisely contained herself. She would have to play along with her best friend's hidden side, and find out just how elaborate her fantasies were. "And how will headquarters feel about you offing your only double agent?"

Melody scowled. For the first time she looked uncertain. "What are you talking about?"

"Wake up, honey. I'm on your side," Jane snapped. "I went to your bosses a long time ago. My instructions are to…to prepare you for your mission!"

Damn, she thought. She should have just said the mission was off. But maybe Melody wouldn't have believed that anyway. She looked pretty suspicious already. "HQ never said anything about you being a double agent."

"I know. They said they didn't want you getting sloppy."

The spy stared daggers at her. "I don't get sloppy."

"Have you looked in the mirror lately?" Jane pointed to the open closet door. A large mirror was fastened to the inside.

Melody's hand twitched with the desire to slap the smirk off this girl's face. But, confident that she couldn't get away, she spared a glance at the mirror and was confronted with a bitter truth. A disheveled, poorly dressed girl with undone hair stared back at her in shock. She looked like some sort of awkward, out-of-shape…high-school girl!

I played my part too well, she thought to herself.

But the operation was tonight. Ready or not, playtime was over.

"See what I mean?" the annoying beatnik taunted. "Why, Antonio would hardly recognize you."

Melody's blood boiled as she whirled around. "Who told you about him?!"

"I told you, Powers, I'm in the know. You enjoyed killing him way too much, by the way."

Melody scoffed. That's what Antonio was there for, like so many other red beaus in dark suits—to be used, devoured and quickly disposed of. There was always the notion that they would be fun to keep around as sexual slaves, but she didn't cry over spilled milk. Or spilled blood, for that matter.

"So here's the deal: I'll give you your final briefing on this mission if you'll just untie me," Jane continued. "Or do you get off on this kind of thing?"

That was unwise. Melody growled as she grabbed the chair and turned it over. Jane crashed to the floor so hard her ears rang from the jolt.

"I don't touch women, Lane. Except to hurt them, and that's all most of them deserve," Jane managed only a groan in reply. "Now tell me what you know, and then I'll untie you. Question one: where's the action?"

Groggy and frightened, Jane could only think of one answer. "The…the dance. Homecoming. Ow."

Ω

Principal Angela Li stood near the entrance to the school gym. The room vibrated with MTV's hottest pop music as flashing lights played over a throng of clumsily cavorting teenagers.

"Ah, what a thrill to see these glowing young students and future donators enjoying themselves so!" Li announced. Her face hardened in a momentary frown as she pulled a walkie-talkie from the pocket of her black Capris. "Security camera two, scan the floor for possible inappropriate touching in sector four."

"Don't you worry about that, little lady," said a brusque voice behind her.

General Buck Conroy stepped out of the shadows by the bleachers. He was a tall, dark-haired, heavily muscled man in military fatigues, flagged by two smaller but similarly dressed assistants. He had large staring eyes that never seemed to blink and a constant toothy smile on his square face. "If there's any trouble here tonight, _we'll_ take of business."

Li laughed nervously and forced herself to smile back. "Oh ho! Oh, don't be silly. I'm sure we won't have any problems that some intensive surveillance can't fix."

Hiring the owners of _Brutal Mercenary Magazine_ to be chaperones at the dance had seemed like a fine idea on paper—which, of course, was all that mattered. They had agreed to the deal and paid a hefty fee in exchange for some low-key recruitment opportunities. Certainly they had given the school some hairy P.R. in their previous appearance, but as long as it was all kept quiet, this extremely creepy and morally outrageous deal would go off just fine.

"Just the same, ma'am…" the frozen smile widened. The muscles twitched. "The general's at your service."

Li's cheeks turned slightly pink, and she quickly excused herself to get some punch. She could feel his eyes still watching her as she left. Yes, indeed…this could work out very well for both sides.


	3. Reconnaissance

_I posted Chapter 2 before watching 'This Year's Model' again to confirm the name and appearance of the magazine owner. His hair is dark brown, not red, and his name is General Buck Conroy. I made both corrections the next day, but I'm embarrassed about it anyway. (Can you tell I'm the ultimate Daria nerd?)_

Chapter Three: Reconnaissance

"How do I look?" Melody asked.

Jane took a break from staring at the wall and turned around. Daria's alter ego was anxious to get moving, but not enough to run out the front door in a nightshirt. She had changed into a dark jacket over a white halter tee with a pair of hip-hugging jeans that had seen action just once before. The outfit wasn't scandalous, but it offered a clear outline of her friend's body. Why would Daria hide legs like that? Moreover, why couldn't Jane stop looking at them?

"Well?" Melody's eyes narrowed.

Jane flinched and stepped back, in no mood for another involuntary chiropractic session. "Great! Um, really good. You'll knock 'em dead. Well, not literally. I mean, I hope you don't. Even though it's, like, your job and stuff, but…"

She was babbling. Fortunately Melody wasn't listening; she was dumping out Daria's backpack and filling it with some emergency supplies like matches and a flashlight. What a mess this room was. "Didn't they send me anything useful along with you? Like a piece?" she asked sharply.

"Er, a, um, a piece of what?" Jane stammered, her mind still elsewhere.

"A gun, you idiot! You pull the trigger and it kills things! Like the reds we're going to be dealing with tonight. Jesus, didn't HQ vet you at all?!"

Jane crossed her arms and glared. "They didn't hire me to commit mass murder. I make art, not war."

Melody rolled her eyes and slung the pack onto her shoulder. "Well, they hired _me_ to get the job done. That's why I'm the operative in charge and you're the double agent assisting me. And you'd better have what it takes out there. At least tell me they gave you firearms training." She grabbed a rubber band and thrust her hair into a ponytail.

"No guns."

"What, your motherland can't afford those anymore?"

Jane swallowed hard, trying to think of how to put this. Melody was as ruthless as Daria described her, and what she said next could determine whether Lawndale became a yuppie burial ground. This place was a real drag sometimes, but it was still home.

"I mean no guns on this mission, Powers. HQ wants to keep it as clean as possible. No killing either. If necessary, we incapacitate. But no mixing and matching." Jane gave herself a pat on the back for remembering some of the vocabulary from Daria's stories. If only she knew how personal those stories must have been.

Melody massaged her forehead with both hands. "Those bastards. How do they expect us to put down a revolution if—"

"Just _listen,"_ Jane said. "We're not talking 1917 Russia here. It's not an armed revolt. It's a small group of…insurgents I used to be a part of. Their job is to observe, report and try to lead some red-blooded American kids astray."

"So now they're sending me to put out fires."

"You can't choose your assignments, Powers. Just between you and me, I hear that a few milquetoasts at the agency disapprove of your methods. They think you can't buy bread at the corner store without leaving bodies. Pull off this little stealth mission and you'll prove 'em wrong."

Melody seethed for a moment, staring out Daria's barred windows into the sunset. So even the agency was against her. It was hard enough leading a solitary life, closed off from all the poor dumb fellow Americans she fought to protect. Now her superiors were taking her for granted as well.

She wanted nothing more than to take it all out on the red-shirted deserter slouching next to her. But that would only give them more ammunition to use against her. Besides, the Lane girl was kind of cute. Not that Melody really noticed or anything.

Finally she seemed to pull herself together. "All right, orders are orders. But if they're packing heat, you're my shield. Let's move."

Jane breathed a sigh of relief. As Melody eased open the bedroom door and scouted the hall, she grabbed her dragon pendant from the floor. Who knew, she might get a chance to use it before too much damage was done.

"We could sneak out one of these windows if they weren't barred," the spy muttered. "Paranoid commies."

"I think we can get past your—um, Daria's parents. Just try to act…you know, like her."

Melody blinked and stared into space for a moment. "How does she act again?"

Jane wondered how far removed the two personalities were. Melody seemed to remember some specific events from Daria's life, but the broad strokes were another story.

"Just don't say much. If you have to say something, try to sound bored and sarcastic. But I'll do the talking."

Jane strolled down the stairs, trying a bit too hard to look casual, while Melody crept warily behind her. Jake was nodding off in front of the TV while Helen jabbered away on her cell phone.

"Hi and bye, Mrs. Morgendorffer. Going to the dance. Be back later. See ya!" Jane breezed through the kitchen with a wave.

"Okay, have fun g—Daria? You're wearing _that_ outfit to a school dance?" Helen shook her head and sighed.

"National security, ma'am…er, 'Mom.' You wouldn't understand." Melody said coolly. Somewhere along the way she had also donned sunglasses.

Jane quickly pulled her out the front door and shut it behind them with a sigh of relief. So far, so good.

"All right. Which way to the school?" Melody tapped her sneakers on the sidewalk impatiently.

"First we go by my place. I have an…associate who can transport us there, no questions asked. Assuming he's woken up by now."

"How convenient," Melody muttered suspiciously. But she turned and followed her down the shadowy street.

Ω

Things would not be so convenient for Charles Ruttheimer the Third, dateless lothario of Lawndale High. He had spent so much time spiffing up his gaudy vintage Chrysler that he was late for the dance himself. But with a few more hours to spare and Barry White looping on the CD player, he thought nothing of trying to pick up two familiar girls on the way.

He rolled up alongside them and honked the horn. "Oh, laaadiiiies!"

They turned away quickly and kept walking. He knew they were just playing hard to get, though. Feisty!

"If it isn't the lovely, leggy Miss Lane and the mysterious Miss Morgendorffer!" he called out. "And dressed to kill, at that. Rowr-r-r-r!"

"_This_ is your 'associate?'" Upchuck thought he heard Daria growl.

"That's Chuck Ruttheimer, and he's more of a dis-associate. Just keep walking."

True to his unsavory nature, Upchuck wasn't giving up. "Perchance you prime specimens of femininity are headed to tonight's scintillating salsa. Care for a lift?"

"Only if we can pick you up here on our way back," said Jane. "But really, Upchuck, this isn't a good time."

"Time is of the essence, Lane," Daria said. Her voice seemed much harder and more…sultry than usual. There could be only one reason why a delicate flower like Daria would suddenly be talking like that: she wanted him. _Grrrr_, thought the hapless boy.

Upchuck put his finned chariot in park and sidled up to them. "I'm afraid I must insist. I cannot allow you ladies to make such a journey alone at night."

"Shut the hell up and we've got a deal," snapped this strange, infinitely hotter version of Daria who had suddenly dropped into his life. Upchuck nodded obsequiously and hurried back to the driver's seat as they jumped in the back. Well, Daria jumped and Jane merely slumped, groaning something to herself as she slammed the door. But one willing female was better than none—which was usually how his nights turned out. Perhaps lady luck, the most fickle of all women, was finally on his side!

Upchuck wished the drive to school was much longer, but in only a few minutes they pulled up to the parking lot. Daria peered through the windows as if she were studying the whole building—or, rather, scouting it. Another unusual tendency for the brilliant little waif.

"Thanks," Jane muttered grudgingly as she reached for the door handle.

The locks clicked. Upchuck slowly turned around, waving his pointer finger at them. "Not so faaaast…we still have to discuss the method of payment for my services."

"Upchuck, I swear, if you don't—"

"Quiet, Lane. What payment, Ruttheimer?" Daria snapped. "And what kind of Eastern European commie name is that, anyway?"

"I ask merely a touch of your lips upon mine…to cement our loving union forever. Have we a deal?"

"Whatever," To Upchuck's astonishment and Jane's disgust, Daria lunged between the front seats and kissed him full on the mouth. Time seemed to stop. Her lips were so soft, yet they caressed his so roughly…impatiently. _Mrrrrowr. _He forgot to close his eyes the whole time. He was sure he had suddenly died and ascended to heaven.

Unfortunately, he was just visiting. Daria broke the kiss and leaned back with a disappointed pout. "Hmph. I was wrong. You don't kiss well enough to be a foreigner."

She promptly slammed his forehead into the steering wheel, hard enough to honk the horn. Upchuck saw stars, and barely had time to ponder what the hell was happening before her arms tightened around his neck and everything went black.


	4. Covert Operations

_Writer's block sucks. So does a story that just starts to get going when the writer stops updating. To every awesome Daria fan who read this WAY back in August: I hope you don't mind jumping back on board and forgiving me. I know Melody won't… *hides*_

Chapter Four: Covert Operations

General Conroy scanned the crowd with his huge, frozen eyes. This mass of juvenile suburbanites looked as soft and sorry as he'd expected. Most of them would hardly be good for target practice, let alone recruiting. He'd envisioned a goldmine of young, obedient, patriotic young people willing to defend America by any means necessary. But it seemed _Brutal Mercenary_ would have to look elsewhere. This was just a field trip, with a bunch of little scrubs who would be useless in the field.

Well, at least the principal wasn't too bad-looking. Perhaps he would see her later about…renegotiating their deal.

"Eww! Camo pants are _so_ late 90's," a skinny redhead whined as she strolled past him with her friends.

"Let's face it, Quinn. All our wardrobes are late 90's." one with pigtails replied.

"Whaaaat are they camouflaginnnnng?" an Asian girl drawled.

"Certainly not their lack of style…" the most uppity one finished before their voices were lost in the crowd.

Conroy's muscles twitched with irritation. Little parasites on American prosperity, he thought to himself. But let them say what they wanted. The day would come when all of these brats learned some respect for their betters. Maybe tonight. Maybe as soon as one of them stepped out of line.

Actually, he was hoping for it.

Ω

"I can't believe you did that to Upchuck. And then I can't believe you did _that _to Upchuck. I can't believe I _let_ you do that to Upchuck-well, maybe I can, but..." Jane babbled as she slouched into the gymnasium.

Melody Powers scouted the area with steely eyes. She had to remain focused. Even though offing people was out of the question, this mission was still part of her duty to clean up America. Nobody would notice if she left a few crumbs behind.

"Shut it, Lankowski. We don't know who might be listening." She said offhand. The gym vibrated with the worst sort of content-free pop drivel, complemented by a gaggle of clueless teeny-boppers in the latest dignity-free fashions. But, no matter. As long as these hapless consumer larvae could exist, it meant she was doing her job.

"It's Lane!" Jane retorted, unable to keep quiet. "It rhymes with 'insane!' As in, _you!_ If you're going to go around putting nerve holds on everyone who looks at you the wrong way…"

Jesus, Melody thought, what a whiner. She's going to blow our cover. I have to stop her.

Though she would have loved to put her hands around the girl's throat and just _squeeze_, something held her back…and it wasn't entirely professionalism or the public setting.

There were other ways to quiet her down. Melody could be very resourceful.

A slow song began oozing from the speakers. She grabbed the peacenik's hand and yanked her roughly into the crowd. "Dance. Now."

"W-what?! I can't! I…"

"_Do. It."_

Melody seized Jane's arms and planted them firmly around her shoulders. She lowered her own hands to the other girl's hips, and thus began the most uncomfortable slow dance at Lawndale High since all three J's had tried to cavort with Quinn Morgendorffer at once.

Jane managed one more complaint, but her voice was hushed and shaking. "Um…I don't think we should…I mean, we're both…"

"If you tell me you're a prude on top of everything else, I swear I will kill you right here."

Jane gulped as the agent's eyes blazed up at her, betraying violent fantasies she couldn't imagine. But they also promised her something…survival. Protection. As long as she did what she was told.

Ω

"I can't believe I'm doing this," Jodie Landon muttered to herself. If it weren't so hot in here already, steam would be rising from her ears.

The Junior and now Senior Homecoming Queen , royally spiffed up in a sparkling red dress, gloves and heels, found herself sitting awkwardly behind the DJ booth playing sappy pop music for all the other students. Since Upchuck never showed up to the dance for some reason, Mr. O'Neill guilt-tripped _her_ into taking his place. Just because she was at the top of the honor roll, president of the student council, and most likely the valedictorian, they assumed she'd be okay with yet another responsibility.

"And please remember," O'Neill had pleaded, "Only tasteful, non-offensive music at a reasonable volume. Like…Boys R Guyz."

She wanted to blast him out of the gym with Cannibal Corpse.

This is what I get for listening to my parents, she thought for the hundredth time. Go out there and make yourself known, sweetie. Don't waste time enjoying yourself, set an example. Take the weight of an entire culture on your shoulders and don't complain. _Queen of the negroes queen of the negroes queen of the negroes queen of the negroes—_

"Hey Jodie! Could you play—"

"_What?!"_ she shouted.

Joey raised his hands and backed away slowly. Or was it Jeffy, or Jamie? Whatever. "Um…nothing."

Jodie sighed. This dance was really getting to her. For once, she envied Daria. _Daria_ never felt pressured to stand out and achieve things nobody would remember in five years. She was her own person and would never be anyone else.

Jodie supported her chin on her hands and stared blankly into the crowd. Then she blinked. Say, who was that strange girl in the jacket and shades? And was she dancing with…

Ω

Jane tried not to trip over her own feet as Melody led her in awkward circles on the floor. Just as she feared, the other students were staring. And whispering. Falling over would just give them something more to talk about.

"Ohmygosh! Kevvy, where did their boyfriends go?!" a familiar voice squeaked.

Jane frowned. The limits of a faux-politically correct society were easily reached. But she couldn't bring herself to care anymore. The whole world could be condemning the two girls for dancing in public—and the whole world would be wrong, because one of them was Melody Powers.

"There," Melody whispered. "You're doing better, pinky."

Jane blushed, staring back at her in disbelief. The music enveloped them and their steps began to flow more naturally. Melody's hands slipped lower, making her gasp. How many people had those hands killed, at least in her twisted mind? Crazy as it was, Jane found herself believing it too.

Worse yet, it was starting to turn her on.

Her only regret was that it was far too good to last. A few seconds later the music cut off and a megaphone screeched to life.

"_Attention, students,"_ squawked the voice of Principal Li in a barely controlled panic. _"This is your principal, Angela Li. It has come to my attention that two girls are now dancing. Er, with each other!"_

Melody put her hands on her hips and stared defiantly in the direction of the voice. Jane slapped her forehead. Suddenly the idea of mass murder didn't seem so bad.

"_Please remain calm and continue with the dance as planned. I want to assure you all that there is absolutely nothing wrong with this, at least until someone complains about it. And the next student caught making faces at the security cameras will be forcibly ejected—er, asked to leave. Thank yoooou!"_

The gym erupted in teenage gossip. Finally the music started up again.

"Um, look Melody," Jane said quickly. "I know you're probably pissed off right now, but..." She turned about. "Melody?"

She was gone.

Ω

"Gee, Quinn," Sandi Griffin's voice dripped with insincerity as she eagerly awaited her best friend's humiliation. "How embarrassing for you. That girl who looks almost like your sister was dancing with that crazy artist." She looked toward Tiffany and Stacey for support, but they were rendered speechless.

Quinn Morgendorffer didn't react at first. She just stared across the dance floor with an unreadable expression.

"Didn't you hear me? I said, I feel so _awful_ for you."

Quinn turned and regarded her with an expression usually reserved for expired carrot sticks. "…Oh, go to hell, Sandi."

She lingered a moment to enjoy Sandi's astonishment and marched off. At least it was dark, and no one else seemed to recognize that one of those girls _was_ her sister—but she did. And Daria had some explaining to do.


End file.
